


fair is foul (and foul is fair)

by Lightning of Farosh (Medea_Nunc_Sum)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Legend (Linked Universe)-centric, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, Witch AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medea_Nunc_Sum/pseuds/Lightning%20of%20Farosh
Summary: Legend had given up being a hero. He had given up being a blacksmith. All he wanted to do was stay in his little cottage in the woods and practice magic.Fate, as always, has other plans.
Relationships: Four & Hyrule (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Wild (Linked Universe), Legend & Sky (Linked Universe), Legend & Time (Linked Universe), Legend & Warriors (Linked Universe), Legend & Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 199





	1. Double, Double, Toil and Trouble, Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off some beautiful artwork done by DF ([art here](https://dfanart.tumblr.com/post/631614701076398080/i-wanted-to-make-a-new-header-for-spoopy-month)) and anxiousartist0 ([art here](https://www.instagram.com/p/CC60W3XgBzT/))
> 
> Title is from _Macbeth_ by William Shakespeare, 1.1.10
> 
> Chapter Titles are also from _Macbeth_ , 4.1.10-36

“You _sure_ this is the place?” Link, the hero of Time, said. He was shielding his eyes from the midday sun, sword and shield catching the light and sending spatters of gold and white across the tall, uncut wildflowers and long, swaying grass. Tall, wide trees towered around them, casting long columns of shade across tiny stars of blue, yellow, and pink in the sea of green.

Looking down over the hastily drawn map in his hands, the Hero of the Four Sword frowned. “I—” he paused and looked back down the way they had travelled.

There was a small worn pathway through the woods; made more from constant feet than purposeful intent. It curled around a patch of trees and vanished.

“This is the only house we’ve seen,” Four turned to look up at the taller hero. “And the blacksmith said it was ‘hard to miss’—”

“Because it was the only one south of the Castle,” Time mused, and took a step towards the strange hill that waited before them.

A stone pathway was carved into the side, set in carefully placed flat stones. Flowers lined the edges; carefully trimmed blue roses, a couple of strikingly orange marigolds, and pink lilies that had no right to be growing with the others. Yet, there they were.

Time walked along the pathway, ignoring the murmuring rising behind him. Some vines rested along the path and a lizard basked on a rock, unbothered by the people approaching it. Birds fluttered in a water bath, ruffled and chirruping as they preened themselves under the small spray of a fountain that had no source.

Wind brushed through the trees and a chime clinked and sung, hanging by the doorway of the small cottage that sat at the top of the hill. Ivy grew along the side and looked as though it would devour the house eventually, more flowers rested on the windowsill, guarding open bottles and reused jars full of carefully planted potatoes and various herbs.

A shadow passed by, and Time looked up at a worn scarecrow. It was leaning slightly to the left, the front torn and wood scarred. It guarded a patch of berry bushes that had already been plucked clean.

“You know,” Twilight said, stepping up the path. “I don’t think I would mind living here.”

“Don’t you live in a tree house?” Wind was leaning over the side of the hill, looking down at a small orange fox that trotted through the clearing. He yelped when a heavy hand ruffled his hair.

“I can appreciate other people’s _homes_ ,” Twilight told him, a spark of humour on his tongue and in his eyes. “You appreciate other people’s boats!”

Wind waved his hand away. “It’s different.”

“It’s _not_ —”

Time reached the door and frowned thoughtfully, looking over the haphazardly hung sign on the front. Half of it was engraved in a language he couldn’t understand, but below it—in carefully carved calligraphy—was ‘Link’s Home’. There was a cartoonish bunny carved in the corner, but it was only a distraction.

Below it, the knob was made out of polished, golden cedar.

Time reached out, tempted to try it, before he shook his head and knocked

There was no answer.

Frowning, Time knocked again, this time louder.

A hush fell behind him, the rest standing back. Some were looking over the plants surrounding the small home, the clinking wind chime hanging from a corner of the roof, or the now empty birdbath after the residents had flown away.

“Can I help you?”

Far in the back, looking over the small patch of strawberry bushes close to the back, was the hero of Warriors. He spun around in one smooth movement, sword drawn in a flash of his blue scarf and pale steel. The tip of his blade pointed at a nose—and Time watched as it wrinkled with an unimpressed grimace.

At the edge of the hill, standing on the cobblestone path, was a young man. He was wearing a pair of trousers cut off just below the knee with a pair of dark sandals made of browned leather wrapped up around his ankles. A baggy blue sweater drooped around his waist, contrasting with a belt full of bottles filled with yellow, purple, red, and blue liquids. The sleeves were pulled up around his forearms, looking like they had been shoved up rather than carefully folded so they were out of the way of a couple of rings and even more bracelets.

Pink and blonde hair framed his sun-brushed cheeks, and a pair of bright—almost glowing—blue eyes stared out from under the brim of a sapphire witch hat. Its colour had faded a bit and the edging was torn a bit, but there was no mistaking the shape.

“Oh,” Someone murmured.

Another cleared their throat.

Time shook his head, pulling away from his thoughts. “Excuse us,” he said, taking in the maroon poncho with gold embroidery that hung over the smaller man’s shoulders. “We’re looking for Link.”

Bright eyes narrowed and the man tilted his head to the side, looking over the freckled, grinning features of Wind with his swept hair and salt battered cheeks, the kind curve of Twilight’s cheeks and smile despite the broadness of his shoulders, and the silent, patient stillness of the hero of the Sky. A party of misfits dressed in clothing more expected of the sea, of the mountains, of grasslands and towns and ranches.

At last, his gaze returned to Time. “And why,” he spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully, “Are you looking for him?” The blue eyes were piercing, stripping away years and growth and leaving nothing more than the child in the Kokiri Woods who stood before the Deku Tree with his first fairy.

“We,” Time motioned to the group, doing his best to shrug away the sudden clenching in his chest. “Don’t really belong here and a villager told that he might be able to help.”

Sky waved.

There was a flash of... _something_ on the man’s face.

For a heartbeat, Time thought it might have been amusement—but it was a cracked and glued together mask.

“Which villager?”

“The Blacksmith,” Four stepped forward, holding up his map, “He was even kind enough to draw up a map for us—even though this is the only house south of the castle.”

Taking the parchment with careful fingers, the young man looked over the scrawled bit of lines and writing. His grip tightened at the edges and Time took a moment to look over the bags under the man’s eyes, the long healed scars along his hands and forearms, the strength in his calves and thighs that wasn’t just from walking back and forth between the cottage and the village.

“Link,” he said softly, testing—

All eyes turned to him.

Including piercing, too-bright blue.

Link pushed the map back into Four’s hands and stepped forward. The group of heroes parted for him, leaving a clear path from the edge of the hill to the door. At the edge of the walkway, the hat had made him look taller.

Now, standing amongst the others, he barely came up to Twilight’s shoulder.

“Well,” Link said, his voice slow, the word drawn out deliberately. He tilted his head up once he reached the door to look up at Time from under the massive brim. It shadowed his bright gaze and set odd streaks of darkness down his face. “I suppose I’d better get started sending you all home, then.”

Wood creaked open with a touch, and he vanished into the cottage.

It took Time a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light inside the small building. There was only one room with a bed pushed off into one corner and a stove and fireplace in the other. A couple of windows let light in, but both of them were partially blocked by plants either placed on the sills outside or hanging from above.

Despite the cluttered feel of it—the cottage was almost empty. Two pictures were on the walls, a coat hanger had a bag and a cloak, and a small, rusty lantern sat on top a chest at the foot of the bed but—there was nothing else.

No swords, no shields, no bows.

If it wasn’t for the plants lining the walls and the small cauldron sitting by the fireplace, Time would have guessed the whole place had been abandoned. Yet, despite the small exterior, the cottage managed to fit the group though it probably had very little to do with actual magic.

“Don’t touch anything,” Link said over his shoulder, not looking behind him. He snapped his fingers and a gnarled, wooden staff that had been leaning against the wall flared with silver-blue runes. The gem at the top ignited, a swirl of pale colours lighting up the room before it flew forward, landing in the Witch’s hand.

Glass clunked against wood and Time turned back, eyebrow raised as he saw Hyrule, hands behind his back, looking sheepish next to a couple glass jars. He smirked at the younger man and had to stifle a small laugh when there was a grin in response.

Link ignored them, tossing the staff back and forth between his hands. He made a low sound deep in his throat, heading over to the small chest at the edge of the bed.

The lantern was placed to the side and the hinges creaked as they opened.

Humming softly under his breath, Time turned away from the muttering young man and looked over the walls, really soaking in the cluttered, but organized atmosphere. It reminded him, somewhat, of the homes that belonged to the Kokiri and he ducked beneath hanging vines and pink flowers.

Wild pushed past him, pulling his slate from his belt and holding it up to look over some odd, thick stemmed thing sitting in the middle of the table. It was covered in long, thin spikes with a purple and yellow flower at the top.

Time walked past him, ducking under some hanging lavender and around Four who was leaning over a grinning plant with a massive, red head and a tooth filled mouth. There was a book open on the counter by the stove that closed the second he got closer with a muffled _snap_ , a couple of bottles thoughtlessly shoved to the side of a book shelf filled with different coloured liquids, and a pair of orange and green eyes that watched him from behind the leaves of a spider plant.

He pushed the hanging stems aside and stared at the heart shaped mask hanging on the wall. Shadows stretched around it like tentacles, reaching for his legs and arms—

A hand rested on Time’s shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts.

“It’s best if you leave that alone,” Link told him, looking up at him from under his hat. There was a book under his arm and the end of the staff was pointing at the mask on the wall.

The odd, long shadows had retreated away from the light glimmering in the opal-like stone.

“Yes,” Time said, turning away from him to look at the wide, unflinching painted eyes. “Yes, you’re right.”

Link pulled away and hesitated, staring up at Time. His head tilted to the side, eyes sliding over the scars that marred the other man’s face—

Then he shook his head and pulled away, heading over to the table that Wild, Hyrule, and Twilight had gathered around.

“I don’t know if I can send you home,” Link said, plopping the book down on the table. “That’s more wizard stuff, but I can try—”

“Who said we needed to go home?”

Link glanced between Warriors, who had spoken, and Time. “You,” he paused, frowned. “You said you didn’t belong here.”

“We don’t,” Hyrule said. “But... I think we’re supposed to bring you with us, where ever we’re going next.”

“Me?” Link blinked and looked around. “Why me?”

A small laugh rolled through the group.

“Hi,” Sky said with a small wave. “My name is Link. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Link stared at the offered hand between them with wide eyes before reaching forward to accept it.

“I’m also Link!”

“Me too!”

One by one, Link shook each of their hands, staring at their faces with his mouth slightly open and his grip numb. Finally, he looked up at Time.

The older man said nothing. He only inclined his head in a nod.

“All of you are named Link, then,” Link said.

“Yes.”

“Are you starting a band or something?”

Time laughed, the sound coming unexpectedly. “No, nothing quite as easy as that.”

Link’s smile was weary. “Of course not,” he murmured.

The group watched as he looked down, staring at the back of his left hand. There was something on his face—it could have been acknowledgment or mourning or even fondness. When he looked back up, there was a small, sad smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” Link said, “But I don’t think I can help you.”

The wind chime outside clinked as a soft breeze brushed against the house.

“The answer is no.”


	2. For a Charm of Powerful Trouble, like a Hell-Broth Boil and Bubble

Fresh turned dirt, long petal flowers, and the smell of pine sat heavy in the air, suffocating in the cottage-filling silence. Chimes sung outside the door. Walls and windows and plants muffled them, but they managed to be loud enough that it felt like the entire world was a mirror on the verge of shattering if they grew just a _little_ louder. Golden sunlight spilled through the window, catching on swirling specs and creating a line between the group of heroes and the witch. 

“No?” Someone murmured

Link’s knuckle paled and wood groaned when tightened his hold on his staff. His small, tired smile refused to falter, but his gaze was sharp, flickering to any movement. It judged weapons on backs and items on belts.

“You’ve got the wrong person,” he said, not turning away—not yet—but bracing his back foot against the floor.

Maybe to run.

Maybe to fight.

“That symbol on your hand says otherwise,” Time kept his voice quiet, soothing. It was like being back at the ranch, arms full of hay as he tried talking down a spooked horse.

“That’s none of your business.”

Hyrule undid the ties on his bracer and pulled the leather away. “I think it is,” he said, holding up his arm to reveal the deep red marking on his own hand. It looked less like a birthmark and more like a brand calling him to fate.

One by one, those who had the mark pulled away leather and cotton and wool. It was drawn like a constellation between freckles on a few, almost hidden behind scars on another, filled in on some but not on all. Link looked between them, eyes narrowing before turning back to Time.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” he said, a stubborn line to his jaw as turned his hand away to hide the symbol etched into his skin. His shoulders were up around his ears, body low and ready to run. “There’s multiple people named Link and probably even more with a similar stupid, silly birthmark. I’m just a random gardener. The birthmark doesn’t mean anything. It never will.”

Fear, Time realized. Link was afraid. _Of them? Or of something else?_ “You’re right; it doesn’t,” He said, keeping still. Horses kicked when startled and he didn’t _really_ want to find out what this kid would do if something spooked him into running “But it is a pattern.”

“For _you_ ,” Link glared at them from under his hat.

“You’re right,” Time agreed with a small nod. “We’re a bunch of strangers who have come up to your home with no explanation of who we are or where we’ve come from. We’ve just asked for your trust.”

There was no answer.

“All we ask is for a bit longer. To explain. And if you still don’t want to come, we’ll leave.”

Link lowered his staff. His brow furrowed as he looked between Sky, Twilight, and Time. “You will?”

“Yes,” Time didn’t want to think about the disbelief in the young man’s tone. “And we’ll respect your decision, whatever it might be.”

There was a moment where Link looked down at his hands. He bit his bottom lip as he thought, nose scrunched slightly, before looking up. A moment passed, a second one followed.

He gave the group of heroes a hesitant nod.

oOo

Fold over, press down, flatten, fold over, press down, flatten.

Sky sighed and breathed in the dry smell of flour. His bag and equipment had been left in the cottage—along with everyone else’s—and his sleeves were folded up to his elbows, leaving his hands and forearms clear. Fire crackled at his back, filling the fireplace that doubled as a brick oven.

Beside him, with a bundle of twine, was Link. The witch had removed his sweater, revealing a dark green turtleneck like tunic that hugged his shoulders and chest but whose sleeves ended just below his biceps. Scars dotted across his skin—odd ones that looked more like pale cracks, oval like splashes of burns, and long scraps and scratches.

At the moment, he was tying a few strings around a chunk of rolled dough before placing it down on a long cooking slab made of greased grey stone and, as Sky watched, he reached for the wooden bowl at his elbow. Link picked up a brush, sighed, and painted an egg and herb mixture over the four balls.

“You’re staring,” Someone murmured at his shoulder.

Turning, Sky caught sight of Wild before he dumped a bowl of ground meat and chopped vegetables into the massive pot waiting by the fire. The arching metal handle was wrapped in leather with the smaller hand holds patched over with wood. There were wooden bowls and spoons, stone knives and trays.

Link opened the metal oven opening with a hook made of dark oak and slid the second batch of bread to join the first.

“I have a question,” Sky spoke up once he was back at the table. Dusk was falling over the side of the house, leaving the light from the fire and a couple of hanging lanterns with long white candles. Shadows stretched from the tall trees surrounding the garden, protecting them from anyone above and on the passing path. “You don’t have to answer, of course.”

There was no answer, but Link turned his head slightly so could glance over at the other man from under his hat.

“And if you don’t want me to ask, that’s fine too—”

Someone snorted.

A small smile formed on Link’s lips before he squashed it. “What’s your question?”

Sky released the breath that had felt so heavy in his chest. “Do you not like metal? I just—well, I just noticed that a lot of things you own are made from wood or stone rather than... you know.”

“Metal.”

“Yes.”

Link hummed, but didn’t look away.

At the cottage, Wind’s bright laughter rose above the trees. He had thrown a stick to the side and tackled a grinning Warriors around the waist. Sky turned to look at them, taking in the way the light of the lanterns caught on blonde hair and highlighted the curves of their smiles. Twilight sat a ways away from them, watching the woods and Time at his elbow. Below them in the small clearing, Hyrule and Four made their way back from the tree line, arms stacked with firewood.

Centring himself, Sky turned back to Link, who hadn’t turned away. “Why?” He murmured, afraid that if he lifted his voice, it would disrupt the light atmosphere.

Those blue eyes didn’t blink, but there was something in them, shadowed and curious and piercing like a sword. Link was still as a breeze tugged playfully at his hair.

Wild put the pot on the fire and ran off, a swirl of cerulean and gold as the sun vanished, finally, behind the jagged, tooth like horizon.

“It...” Link started and stopped, gaze wandering over to the group of heroes. Someone had found an apple tree behind the back and had brought a full basket to the others. “It wasn’t always like that,” he breathed. “I was an apprentice to a blacksmith, once upon a time.”

“What changed?”

Link’s smile was soft, but not bitter. “I did,” he told Sky.

A quiet sound of acknowledgement rose in the back of Sky’s throat. “Because of your adventure?”

“Adventure?”

“It’s what everyone here calls them,” Sky nodded to the group that had finally settled around Twilight and Time. They had a basket of apples in the middle of their circle.

Link lifted his head. “How romantic,” he said, an odd light to his eyes. “An _adventure_.”

“We all went off to help a person, in the beginning,” Sky murmured. “Some of us for friends, for family, for the strangers we grew to love.” He smiled when Link looked back over at him.

“Who did you fight for?”

Sky sighed and turned his face towards the indigo heavens, looking for Skyloft and the cloud barrier more out of instinct than anything else. There were stars peaking out of hiding, their light dimmed by the glow surrounding the cottage and the quickly fading sunlight. “My best friend,” he said after a moment, “Zelda.”

There was a pause as he thought about blue feathers, a wide smile, gold hair, and an amber prison.

Shaking his head free of the memories, Sky turned to Link. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Sky nodded.

A hum vibrated through Link’s chest. Firelight lit up his back, the brick oven and fireplace warm behind them, the heat and light a careful contrast to the slight chill settling around them.

“My uncle,” he said finally, words barely audible over the crack of burning wood. “I fought for my uncle.”

oOo

“He looks like he’s in pain,” Wind said, leaning over so his shoulder brushed against Warriors’.

Candle light flickered as wind swirled around them, and Warriors shrugged his scarf closer to his neck as he took a bite of the half-eaten apple in his hand. It crunched under his teeth, juice dripping down his fingers.

Over Wild’s head, he could see Sky at the table still, trying to pull Link back into a conversation. The other man was studiously looking away, rolling dough into balls and tying twine around them to get them ready for the oven. As Warriors watched, Link headed over to the brick oven and Sky turned to look at the group, panic painted clear across his face.

“Wonder what he said,” Warriors muttered and took another bite of his apple.

Wind shrugged and reached out to grab a second apple from under Four’s fingers. There was a playful, affronted gasp. “Too slow, Shorty,” he said, tossing the fruit up and catching it with one hand.

“ _You_ —”

Finishing his apple, Warriors tossed the core on the pile building up next to the basket, wiped his hands on his trousers, and stood up. He stepped over the squabbling heroes, picking up the sticks he and Wind had been using earlier during their spar.

“Why don’t you take a—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sky said, sounding breathless with relief. “Thank you, I’m, uh. I’m gonna go get an apple.” He took a step towards the others, paused, and turned to Link. “Would, um. Would you like one? Link?”

The other man picked up the stone slab holding the bread and glanced up. “No, thank you,” he said, tone soft. Tension sat in his knuckles and along his shoulders.

_What the hell were they talking about?_

Sky just nodded, offered Warriors a strained smile, and headed off to join the others.

“Not a fan of apples, then?” Warriors said, leaning against the table. He watched the oven door open and the stone slab slide in.

“I grow them.”

Warriors hummed. “True,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you like them, though.”

Link looked at him from under his hat. The darkness of the evening clung to his face despite the amber light glowing softly around them. His eyes seemed brighter and bluer from it. “I spend my time growing them,” he said slowly, as if choosing each word deliberately. “I spend my time picking them.”

“What about eating them?”

A jaw clenched. “Why,” Link said through gritted teeth, “are you so interested in my apple eating habits?”

“Dunno,” Warriors shrugged and grinned lazily. “Why aren’t you answering the question about your apple eating habits?”

The glare the shorter hero shot him was full of jagged, spear-like ice. “Because I don’t know you.”

“Okay,” Warriors said easily and grinned as the blue eyes blinked in surprise. “What would you like to know?”

Link paused and looked him over. His examination paused at the embroidered Triforce at the end of the scarf, at the sticks in his hand, at the chain-mail under a green tunic. A loud, bark-like laugh burst out behind them, mixing with the clinking of the wind chime. Warriors waited, not looking away, a simple grin still on his lips.

“Why are you here?” Link said at last. 

“We don’t know,” Warriors told him. “We’ve been transported from world to world, time period to time period. Sometimes we fight monsters, sometimes we find people like us.”

Link tilted his head to the side. One long, pointed ear flicked. “Like you?”

“Yeah,” Warriors inclined his head towards the others. “Heroes, adventurers, explorers.”

There was a moment as Link looked past to the group gathered around their basket of fruit, chattering on despite the chill settling in their air. “And you believe I’m one of you.”

“Why else would we have been sent here?”

Link crossed his arms over his chest but didn’t answer. The fabric of his tunic stretched along his shoulders and chest, showing off strength that didn’t quite belong on a gardener.

Sighing, Warriors looked up at the stars stretched over their heads. His smile turned bittersweet as he traced out the bright crown of the Golden Goddess. “I didn’t come over here with the idea to ask you twenty questions,” he said.

There was a disbelieving snort.

“I didn’t!” Warriors turned to the shorter hero and placed his palm over his heart. “Honest; I came over here to ask if you wanted to spar.”

“Is that why you’re holding onto two sticks like a child clutching a teddy bear?”

Warriors winced with a playful laugh. “Ouch,” he said, smile refusing to falter. “I’ll have you know that I have a teddy bear and I would never cheat on her with _anyone_.”

A soft, surprised laugh left Link’s lips, and he looked up at Warriors, a smirk that was half amusement, half surprise on his face. He glanced at the sticks, then back up at the taller hero’s grin. “Just a spar?”

“Cross my heart,” Warriors told him, leaning back to press his palm against his chest. “What else are you going to do while you wait for everything to finish up?”

“Literally anything,” Link said. “I could read a book, water the plants, make a potion.”

Warriors waved the words away. “Nah,” he tossed the stick at the shorter hero and grinned when he yelped. “Come on. Spar with me. Or are you _scared_?”

“Not of you,” Link said, hoisting the stick over his shoulder. It knocked against the brim of his hat so it sat lopsided on his head. “I’m guessing we’re not going to be doing this in the middle of your friends and their picnic.”

“As funny as that would be,” Warriors moved to the side so the other man could lead. “I don’t think they would appreciate it.”

Link grunted, but stepped past, taking the front as he guided Warriors down the cobblestone pathway surrounding his small house. The stones had hidden partially behind vines and bushes, but the plants moved out of the way as their owner walked through. Together they passed the group of heroes who quieted, looking up and watching as the two headed down the hill and out into the clearing.

Trees, flowers, and grass were dark, highlighted only by slivers of fragile silver and flickering embers of fading gold. Warriors blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the long shadows he and Link created before he glanced back.

The cottage was an amber lighthouse upon the hill; a beacon of safety. A monument of warning.

“Have you always lived out here alone?” Warriors wondered, tapping his stick against the dirt.

“No,” Link said, stopping a few feet away. He looked over at Warriors and light caught on his eyes like the surface of the moon. Shadows clung stubbornly to his tunic, to his face, to his hat. Almost as if they were trying to swallow him back into the darkness.

Warriors was the first to look away. “Family home, then?”

“I thought this wouldn’t be a game of twenty questions?” Link muttered, sticking his stick into the ground and rolling his shoulders. Something buzzed angrily in the grass before taking off.

A shrug. “I’m curious.”

Link huffed out a low breath.

“Also; I can’t see anything. So this might not have been the best idea.”

Soft laughter bubbled up from the man beside him, and Link turned to him. There was a flash of a Cheshire smile in the night—and then hands clapped together. Pale pink balls of light rose from the grass and swirled around them, creating a circular arena out in the meadow.

“Oh,” Warriors said, staring at one. It wasn’t bright like the sun or flickering like a candle; just round and kind in its own odd way. Fingers pressed into the sphere and wiggled because it was warm. “Where d'you learn how to do that?”

“Same place I learned everything else,” Link pulled his stick out from the dirt. “And I thought you wanted to spar?”

A smile grew on Warriors’ face. “Will you answer my questions if I win?”

Link paused, his brow furrowing. He looked down at his weapon, dragged his thumb over the side. “Fine,” he said at last. “You can ask three questions.”

“And you’ll answer them?”

“ _If_ you win,” Link told him. There was a strange sharpness to his jaw and a competitive glint in his expression. “And only _if_.”

Wood cracked as the two makeshift swords met. The pink balls of light shifted higher, spreading their shadows out in the grass.

Warriors blinked, grinned, looking down at the shorter man who had parried his blow. “What about you?”

“Me?” Link stepped back, knocking away the edge of the stick aimed at his ribs.

“What do you want if you win?”

Boots shuffled among wildflowers and grass blades. Forward and backward. One side to the other.

Link leaned back and wood whistled as it passed by his nose. “Peace,” He said, “and quiet.”

“Can’t promise that,” Warriors danced away, pulling his hand out of the way of a blow that would have knocked against his wrist. “I don’t control everyone else.”

“You asked what I wanted,” Link told him, giving chase. His words came faster, sped up as energy thrummed between the two men. “Not what I expected to happen.”

Warriors laughed, jabbing his stick forward. It met only air as a black and gold blur shifted through the soft light. His opponent was fast, testing each bow and parry like heavy feet tested crackling ice on a lake’s surface. Words faded into the snap-whistle of quick blocks and last minute dodges as smiles turned into concentrated frowns.

It was a dance created from centuries of steel and bloodshed and desperation. Only this time it was painted in wood and flowers and champagne light.

Around and around they went, hearts thrumming in their ears, muscles vibrating from each vibration that arched up bones. An owl called out in the trees as the tops of the pines ruffled, all of them watching the circular pattern of a young man in a witch hat and another in a long, blue scarf.

Until.

_Until._

Warriors grunted and laughed, reaching back to rub his hip. “Nice hit,” he said.

“Thank you,” Link smirked at him, playful like a cat that had knocked a glass of water off the table. “You were so close to blocking it—”

“Hey!”

The stick whipped around, catching on the edge of a wide brim. Link squawked as his hat fell off his head. One orb of light hurried forward, catching it before it hit the ground.

“Low blow,” the shorter man said, brushing his bangs back. His eyes didn’t seem so bright and his face didn’t look so sharp. Just a kid.

Just another damn kid.

“I would aim higher,” Warriors told him, “but you’re too short—”

There was a cry and Link threw his stick to the side. His shoulder hit Warriors in the stomach like a battering ram.

“Cheater! _Hey!_ ”

The sky turned over and Warriors scrambled, letting go of his own weapon as he was flipped over—and landed, face first, into the dirt. He spat out a bit of grass and hefted himself up, looking at his opponent with narrowed eyes.

Laughter spilled from the cottage, but his attention was on the hatless young man grinning wildly at him. Light was spinning around them in a lazy circle, but Link seemed to both attract it and deny it at the same time. A mix of haunting, colourful contradictions.

“You’re a _cheater_ ,” Warriors told him, getting slowly up to his feet.

“You never said it was ‘ _swords only_ ’,” Link shrugged. His smile didn’t falter, proud and clever.

Warriors lunged forward, fingers brushing the edge of a tunic—

It slipped away like a rabbit and Link laughed, darting away. “Too slow!” He called over his shoulder.

oOo

At the top of the hill, hands resting in his lap, Time watched the two boys in the clearing. Link ducked and rolled between the shadows, gliding out of Warriors’ grasp to bounce away with a cackle and crocodile smile. His blonde hair was stained with pink even as the night clung to every part of his body except the white-toothed grin and bright blue eyes.

“He’s fast,” Twilight mused.

They watched as Link hopped out of the way of grasping hands only to brace his palms against Warriors’ shoulders to leap-frog over him.

“He is,” Time agreed as he carved off the skin of his second apple with a knife.

There was a cry as a scarf, rolled up into an odd rope, caught around Link’s waist. He squealed the second Warriors was on him, kicking with his legs until a well aimed hit allowed him to squirm free.

“Are you still going to talk to him?”

Candles flickered when there was no breeze and the orbs of light spun around the two sparring partners, pulled in by the frantic energy of feet against dirt and breathless laughter.

Time hummed and watched as Link shoved Warriors into the grass before plopping down beside him, both of them breathing heavily and looking to the sky. “Perhaps,” he said, voice soft. “But not yet.”

The apple skin was tossed over to the garden where it could rejoin the soil.

“He deserves to be a kid, first.”

oOo

Cheesy soup in bread bowls shaped like pumpkins were handed out one by one with wooden spoons and plates. The moon had lifted themselves above the tree line, still yawning in the fading heat of the day.

Link was pressed between Warriors and Time, his chair squeaking with every movement. He kept his head down, digging around in his supper like he meant to eat, but hadn’t mustered up the energy to do so.

A basket filled with extra bread was in the middle of the table. On either side sat a slab of butter, a jar of honey, and a small bowl of raspberry jam. Laughter bounced from one end of the group to the other as if it was a ball on a court.

Time glanced down, watching a spoon dig uselessly into a soup. “Not hungry?”

That massive brimmed hat had been placed off to the side and wasn’t there to hide the twisted grimace that formed on Link’s lips. “It’s fine,” he said.

“Of course,” Time murmured, turning away so he could pretend like he was watching Hyrule mutter something to Four, both of them looking over their hand carved utensils. “I suppose I would also lose my appetite if I thought it would be the last one I’d have at my own table.”

Link snorted. “That confident you’ll be able to convince me?”

“No,” Time ripped a bit of his bread bowl apart and dipped the chunk into his soup. “But if you’re like us—and I have no doubt that you are—you’re not one to sit back and let others get hurt when you could do something about it.”

There was a tired laugh. “You _are_ confident,” Link said. His grimace had turned old and weary. “Fine, I’ll listen.” His spoon dug into the soup. “Why are you here?”

So Time told him about the monsters with the black malice in their blood stretching from timeline to timeline with no foreseeable response. How they left destruction in their wake looking for something. Link ate quietly, asking no questions or making any comment.

At one point Wild scrambled from the table, dodging around Wind’s grasping hands and laughing as he readied a pie into the still hot oven.

Link finished his soup and his bread, licked up the last bit of honey off his thumb, and sighed. The explanation hovered in the air for a while; a long, heavy blanket in the chill night air. Fireflies had claimed the clearing, their flickering green lights swirling like unclaimed constellations.

“And you have no idea where they came from, these monsters?”

“No,” Time said.

A hum.

“Few of us are trained in magic—we’re not scholars, after all—and our main magic user comes from a time where sorcery isn’t... the most _common_ thing.”

Blue flickered as Link glanced around at the group. He smirked. “I’m not exactly a _scholar_.”

Time laughed. “It’s definitely not our area of expertise, either.”

Silence settled between them even as Warriors laughed, chatting with Twilight in the seat next to him about horses. Four and Wind were leaning over something, muttering together. They parted just enough to let Hyrule squeeze in, all of them staring in wide eyes at something cupped in a pair of sword worn palms.

“I have to think about it,” Link said, his voice quiet. “Ask me again in the morning.”

Time offered him a smile.

“Of course,” he said.


	3. Sweltered venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' th' charmèd pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i know this is late but i've been so busy and so tired. i hope you enjoyed the last chapter of this fic (though probably not the last installment of this series!)

Crickets sang a low, soft tune, their music drifting through the open windows. They seemed unbothered by the rustling tips of the trees in the woods as their shadows darted in and out of low burning candles.

Wind was curled up on a hardwood floor that felt familiar—though it didn’t rock and smelled of dirt more than salt. He breathed in, breathed out, and rolled over on his side.

Link’s table had been pushed off to a corner, Four curled on top of it, Hyrule nested underneath. The rest of the group spattered about almost haphazardly, with Wind and Twilight blocking the kitchen as Time and Warriors slept closest to the plant filled shelving.

Sky, remarkably, was half upright and leaning against one of the bigger pots, soil smeared against his cheek and leaves already caught in his hair.

Metal chimed outside, ringing like fairy bells. Wind rubbed his hands down his face, adjusted his pillow, and plopped his head back on it with a huff. The surrounding air was full of too many things and felt like it was clogging his chest, his throat, his nose. Energy crackled beneath the first layer of his skin, urging him to run as an uncomfortable heat settled in his palms.

He flexed his fingers and rolled over again, trying to find a cool spot on his pillow.

There was so _much_. The crickets. The pines. The chimes in the front. Wind closed his eyes tight and tried to imagine the rhythmic waves splashing against the side of a ship, the tired groan of a mast, and flapping sails. Maybe, just maybe, if they were close enough to shore there would be the cry of a seagull as it flew over their heads, guiding them back to a dock—

Wood creaked.

Wind’s eyes snapped open, breath clasped tightly in his chest.

Someone sighed and fabric rustled, falling to the side. He risked a glance, opening his eye a crack.

Link had kicked his blankets off his legs and was sitting up in the bed, palms pressing against his eyes. The witch hat was hanging off his the bedpost next to his pillow leaving his shoulder-length blonde hair tangled against his ears and shoulders. The brightness of his eyes was shadowed by the flickering candles and, as he threw his legs over the side of the bed, Wind noted the heavy weight that had settled in them.

For a few tense heartbeats, Wind watched as Link looked around at his guests (closing his eyes, of course, when the gaze passed over him) before he reached over. His staff laid on the chest at the foot of the bed and a spark of rainbow light flittered through the gem at the top when fingers curled around wood. Wind continued to hold his breath, blood howling in his ears as Link stood.

One by one, the witch tiptoed around limp legs and splayed arms. He made his way to the door and slipping through it like the ghost of a fox sliding through shadows.

Wind exhaled with a sigh and rubbed at his cheek. Looking up at one of the tall green candles, he watched as it marked away the hours he had stayed there, uncomfortably awake.

A second passed. Another one followed.

Blankets were pushed off to the side and Wind scrambled to his feet. Something brushed against Wind’s ear and he jumped to the side, almost landing on Warriors as he spun around, fists rising—

And saw a stem of a low hanging plant. 

“Don’t do that,” he hissed in a low voice.

The plant didn’t respond.

Wind brushed his palms down the front of his shirt, smoothing out the white lobster. Someone snorted behind him and he pressed a hand against his chest, breathing in... breathing out. He took a step forward.

A floorboard groaned under his weight.

Warriors huffed and rolled over, throwing his arm over his face.

“Okay,” Wind whispered. “Okay, you can do this. You snuck through a fortress, how hard could this be?”

“What are you doing?”

Wind clapped his hands over his own mouth, muffling the yelp before it could escape. He whipped around and saw Hyrule yawning, pushing himself up under the table.

“I’m—” Wind shifted his weight, glancing between the door and his friend. “I just needed to go to the bathroom.”

Hyrule grunted and turned the other way. “Don’t fall in,” he muttered, words slurring together.

Wind waited to make sure he was _truly_ going back to sleep before his shoulder slumped. The pounding of his heart felt like a bird was trying to escape his chest. “ _Hylia_ ,” he swore and straightened.

 _This isn’t a life or death situation_ , someone in his head said. They sounded like Tetra. _Get yourself together, yeah?_

“Yeah...” Wind took a step. It was just a game, after all. What was anyone going to do? Send him back to bed?

He wasn’t a _child_.

One by one he passed branches and stems and arms and legs. There was a pack next to the door that looked like it had been sewn together with various bits of leather. He nudged it to the side with the toe of his boot and reached for the wooden doorknob.

It swung open with nary a complaint and Wind darted out into the garden. Silver light spread grey-scale mosaic shadows across the stone pathway. The lanterns that had been lit earlier were out except for two nestling on the far edge of the hill, closer to where they had eaten supper.

Keeping low, Wind slunk forward, careful to keep away from the bushes and flowers so he didn’t accidently trample them underfoot as he tried to find Link.

The wooden bench and its makeshift chairs had been tucked back into their corner, waiting to be, possibly, pulled out again in the morning. Beyond them, marked only by the two flickering lanterns, was a second pathway. It was marked only by the two lanterns and was nestled between bushes like a secret. Wind paused at the entrance, looking over the small, star-like flowers that framed the little pathway and the trees that had hid it from view to begin with.

Even with the lanterns marking the beginning, shadows clung to leaves and boughs and a heavy darkness waited beyond.

Wind looked back at the soft glow that came from the house and its small windows. He thought of the sleeplessness that clung to his bedroll and blankets.

Then, he squared his shoulders and turned to pass over the threshold.

Something rushed past him, like the wind upon the sea, and Wind swore he could smell salt and cinders and _earth_ before his ears popped—and the forest was there. It sat before him, silver falling through the tree branches as rainbow-lit bugs played hide and seek within the bushes. Everything seemed brighter, somehow. Brighter but fuzzy around the edges.

Almost as if it was a dream.

Wind walked forward, taking in the unnaturally stretched height of the surrounding trunks, of the way the world seemed to end only a few feet from the path he walked. Trees with white bark were scattered among ones with glowing red and blue and green veins that pulsed in unison. Music drifted through the grass, hovering heavily in the air with the low hanging fog before darting away when he tried to chase it. Water gurgled in the distance and some part of him wanted to find it.

Another part of him warned him to stay and not stray from the path placed before him.

Torches lit the way, first red, then blue, then green until they ended and a stone staircase led the way up to a small, wooden building. The music came from inside, sorrowful, but sweet in a way; like a goodbye and a hello all at once.

With no other way to go but up, that’s where Wind went. The small stairs were silent under his feet, and he paused outside a door with no doorknob—just a pale whale shaped knocker made of wood.

He reached up, took the ring with waves carved along the edges, and knocked twice.

The music stopped and a thick, oil-like silence settled.

Wind remembered he was supposed to be hiding, that he was sneaking around to follow Link, but something kept his feet rooted to the ground as the door swung open. Golden light spilled down into the forest, resting on swaying grass and tangled bushes.

Link stood in the threshold, eyes bright and blue as he looked down at Wind.

They stared at each other for a second, neither blinking.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Wind said. “I have no idea where the fuck I am.”

Link slapped his hand to his forehead, muttering something under his breath about _curious assholes_ and _their inability to keep their noses out of other people’s business._

Wind waited, leaning slightly to the side to peak into the tiny home. He caught sight of something coral blue before Link stepped in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Where’d your staff go?”

Link rolled his eyes. “Why are you even _awake_?”

Pausing, Wind rested back on his heels. “I’m not really sure,” he told the other boy. “Guess I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you _followed_ me?”

“Yeah.”

Bright eyes blinked, then narrowed. “What is it with you lot?” Link half grumbled, half whined. “All of you are such nosey little—hey!”

Wind looked up from where he had managed to half squeeze through the door. “Yeah?”

Fingers closed around the scruff of his shirt and yanked him back. And he was _so close_ , too. Wind pouted.

“Go back to the house,” Link told him. “Shoo. Before the Nightmares eat you.”

Wind blinked, staring off into the forest. Wood slammed shut and the gold light was cut off, leaving only silver to drift quietly through the trees. He couldn’t see the lanterns that marked the entrance to... whatever this place was, only the one that lined the path trailing off into the darkness.

“Night—wait!” Wind spun around. “Hey! That’s not fair!” He pounded on the door with his fist. “Link! Lemme in!”

The voice that came through the wood was muffled and irritated. “Go back to the house!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Wind kicked at the door before huffing and sitting down outside it. “I’m not going anywhere until you let me in!”

“Fine!”

“ _Fine_!”

He thumped his back against the wood and pulled his knees up to his chest. “What a dick,” Wind muttered, scratching behind one ear as he watched a few of the rainbow bugs flitter about.

A bird with a wide face settled into a nearby tree and stared at him with large, circular eyes. It had tawny feathers with splotches of white across its back and wings, two large—for a bird—ears, and a small, pale beak.

“He’s such an asshole,” the hero said.

“To be fair,” The bird told him. “ _You_ came _here_.”

Wind stared up at the creature for a beat—and then stumbled to his feet, pounding on the door. “Link! The fucking bird is talking!”

Wood swung forward and Wind stumbled forward, his forehead knocking against a chest even as hands fumbled to catch him. “There’s—a bird. A _bird_ is talking. Why can the bird talk?”

“He does that.”

Wind leaned back. “He— _what_?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Link breathed in and held it for a fat couple of seconds before releasing it again. “He can talk, yes. He also has a name.”

Wind looked back and forth between Link and the bird. “Where the _fuck_ are we?!”

There was a long, drawn out groan and Link let his head fall back. He stared at the ceiling for what felt like a full minute before looking back down. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“Nope!”

“I _hate_ you.”

The smile that grew on Wind’s face was a mix of crocodile humour and raccoon-like mischief. “I grow on you, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait,” Link drawled. He peeked out the doorway. “Mr. Owl,” his words were cautious.

“Evening, Link.”

The taller hero hummed and narrowed his eyes. When the bird said nothing else, he pulled back and closed the door.

Wind had pulled away, his eyes wide as he looked over the house. The walls were made of pale wood and soft, grey brick, almost like Link’s other house except the pots of plants were missing. Instead, there were chests shoved into corners, and colourful rods were placed onto various stands. Four wooden mannequins stood off to the side, two clothed in red mail with the others dressed in blue.

“Really,” Wind said, spinning around. He caught sight of a desk under one window, shells and small frames lining unrolled scrolls. “What is this place?”

“You can call it whatever you like; a work place, a storage space, or even a home away from home.” Link told him, passing by. He sounded tired. “When I feel like it, I can use my staff to make a tower or a mansion or a place like this.”

“Whenever you want?”

Link hummed. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “It takes energy to open the doorway. Sometimes I don’t have that energy.”

Wind stared. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Just... _why_?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Link frowned. “Because there are eight strangers in my home and I wanted some peace and quiet?”

Waving his hand, Wind looked over one chest off to the side. It was made of a dark blue wood and a faded, golden Triforce was stamped just below the lock. “Eh,” he mused, “you’ll get used to it.”

“Oh?” Link still didn’t sound impressed. “And why do you say that?”

“Because you’re coming with us.”

There was no response. Wind looked up from the chest and glanced back.

Link was looking away towards one of the taller, haphazardly stocked bookshelf. A couple of bottles were shoved into the open spaces, full of what looked like various jams. It held no answers. It held no secrets.

“What is it?” Wind said, straightening.

“I’m,” Link paused, but didn’t meet the smaller hero’s eyes. His hands were wrapped around his biceps and, with each word, his head ducked lower. Like a flower curling in on itself. “I’m not going.”

There was the creak of the trees outside, a faint cawing bird that was rapidly silenced.

“You’re—” Wind took a deep breath. Held it. “You’re not going?”

Link looked away again, his eyes half hidden behind his blonde hair.

“But...”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Link told him and took a tremulous breath. “I have a life here. I have things I need to do. My—” he paused. “I can’t go running off chasing some danger in another timeline.”

Wind continued to stare, the throbbing of his heart roaring in his ears. “It’s not some _danger_ —”

“It is!” Link snapped. “Do you know what you’re fighting? Do _any_ of you?”

There was a clack of teeth as Wind’s jaw snapped shut.

Link snorted, one side of his lip curling back. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought.” He turned, looking over the items that hung along the walls, the armour on the mannequins, the chests that were placed here and there beneath shelves full of books and candles and jars filled with many colours.

“I don’t know why you were sent here,” Link said after a moment. “And I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I’m still tired from the last ‘ _adventure’_ I went on and I’m not looking for another for a good, long while.”

Wind opened his mouth, heat on the tip of his tongue, an argument about _duty_ on the tip of his tongue—but he paused. And he breathed.

“You’re right,” he said, “we don’t know what we’re facing. We don’t even know what our purpose is, here. But,” he looked down at his mud stained shoes, crusted over after weeks of walking through muddy forests and fields, no beach or ocean in sight. “But it’s nice, sometimes.”

“Nice?”

“Talking to people who get it, you know?”

Link tilted his head to the side.

“I,” Wind hesitated. “I didn’t mean to fight Ganondorf—I just wanted to save my sister. There are others who were told it was their destiny to do what they needed to do and there are some like me who chose to keep going.”

Looking off to the side, Wind studied the embroidery on the armour, cemented it carefully into his memory. “And it’s nice, you know? To be around people who _get_ it.”

There was a long moment of silence as Link thought, and Wind bit his lip. He tried not to think about those nights, waking up and unable to tell his grandmother why he was afraid. Sometimes he saw understanding on Tetra’s face. Sometimes it was just another stranger looking back at him.

A heavy hand rested on his shoulder, and Wind lurched, turning around to look up at Link.

“You should sleep,” the witch told him softly. “Your friends are leaving in the morning.”

Wind nodded and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Will we see you in the morning?”

There was a hum. “Perhaps,” Link said.

“Will _you_ sleep?”

Link stepped to the side, opening the door to the tiny hut in this strange world. “Perhaps,” he said once more. “Follow the light back to the entrance. Don’t stray from the path.”

Wind sighed and took one last look around the tiny cottage. “Maybe next time,” he said, squeezing out the opening and heading down the stairs, “you should make a _castle_.”

Link laughed, and the sound bounced through the trees. Birds, startled from their branches, took flight.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

oOo

Morning came tiredly, the sun rising over the horizon with all the energy of a snail going up a hill. The birds, chirruped in their trees, fluttering about for insects and worms that hadn’t taken cover. Hyrule, who had been up for a good while already, stared out over the tree line with a mug of tea in hand and a folded piece of parchment in the other.

“Good morning,” he chirruped when Sky sat down beside him.

“Is it?” Sky muttered, reaching for the dark green clay kettle sitting in the middle of the table.

Hyrule laughed quietly and took a sip of his drink. “I like to think it is.”

There was a grumble from the hero next to him, and Sky poured himself a mug and promptly lowered his cheek down on his arm. Leaning back, Hyrule watched as each sip chased away more and more of the drowsiness.

Across from them, Wild clunked around, pulling and pushing around pots before digging through his slate for something to make for breakfast. Twilight sat down on the other side of Sky, not quite looking awake but not as tired as Warriors who sat down with a huff and a slump to his shoulders.

“Tea?” Hyrule offered.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Warriors said, brushing his bangs out of his face and accepting the offered mug. He groaned at the taste. “Where’s our new prickly friend?”

Humming, Hyrule shrugged. “Dunno,” he put the kettle back down in the middle of the table. It was immediately snatched up by Four. “He left about an hour ago saying something about errands. Gave me this, though,” he held up the note and, promptly, moved it out of reach so Twilight couldn’t snatch it.

It was plucked out of his fingers regardless and Hyrule turned around, mouth open to demand it back. The words froze in his throat as he looked up at Time.

“Did you read it?”

Hyrule shrugged. “Nope,” he reached for a berry Wild had left out and was shooed away by the cook. “Said that it was for everyone when you all woke up.”

“So you didn’t read it. At all.”

Turning to Twilight, Hyrule tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Do you read private notes, Mr. Yes I Will Dig through Underwear Drawers for Treasure?”

Twilight sputtered.

The scolding look dropped from Hyrule’s face and he reached over Sky to pat the larger hero on the shoulder. “I’m just kidding,” he said.

There was a sigh. “So you did read it?” Twilight lifted his tea.

“What? No. Who do you think I am?”

“A nuisance,” Warriors grumbled. “Who makes excellent tea.”

“Thank you,” Hyrule told him. “I—”

Sky reached up, pressing a finger against Hyrule’s lips. “No,” he said. “We don’t want to know where you got it.”

“It’s not anything _weird_ —”

“This time,” someone muttered

Hyrule grinned. “I just took some lemon and some spices. Honest.”

“And where,” Time spoke up, still reading the note, “did you get those?”

“Huh?” Hyrule made a show of trying to clean out his ear. “Sorry I didn’t catch that! Guess I ought’a go wake Wind up, he’s sure is sleeping in, isn’t he?” Swinging his legs over the top of the bench, Hyrule stood up and brushed his hands off on the nearest shoulder to clean them.

“ _Morning people_ ,” Sky grumbled in response.

Twilight reached out as Hyrule passed him, ruffling the already messy hair. His laughter was deep at the sound of the indignant squawk. “Thanks for the tea,” he said.

“You’re welcome!” Hyrule told him, not bothering to even try to fix the tangled mop sitting on his head. The group muttered and grumbled and chatted behind him as he headed back to the cottage. Wind was still strewn out on his bedroll, a second, unfamiliar blanket tossed over him sometime during the night. His arms were outstretched, encroaching onto the rest of the floor like ivy growing up the side of an old cottage.

Squatting down beside him, Hyrule looked over the youngest hero’s tired face and the way his blonde hair caught the sunlight.

Then he reached over and pinched Wind’s nostrils together singing a cheerful, “rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

Blue eyes snapped open, and a palm smacked against Hyrule’s chest. “Gedoff—!” Wind slurred, pushing the hand away. He rolled over, glaring from underneath his hair. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Good morning!” Hyrule said, his smile bright. “Long night? Don’t tell me you _actually_ fell into the toilet.”

Wind flopped down and pressed his cheek into his pillow. “No,” he sneered. “I didn’t _fall_ in.”

Nodding sagely, Hyrule sat down beside him. He rested his elbows on his knees and cupped his chin in his palms. “That’s good; it would have been terribly inconvenient.”

“Why,” Wind ducked his head under his pillow and pulled the corners down around his pointed ears. “Are you like this?”

“Aww,” Hyrule patted him on the back. “I love you,” he said solemnly. “Like family!”

Wind hummed. Paused. Peeked out from under the pillow. “Why,” he drawled, “does that sound like a threat?”

Hyrule’s smile was all teeth. “Oh,” he told Wind, “It is.”

oOo

“So,” Warriors managed around a bite of idlis. There was a plate of the small, round, white pancakes in the midst of everything else that sat on the table. A bowl of some sweet orange chutney sat beside it, already half gone. “What did the note say?”

Hyrule looked up from his own breakfast—a few slices of bread that had been battered with egg, onions, peppers, and other spices before it was fried in a pan. His mouth was stuffed, and another bite was on its way.

Across from him, Time wiped his mouth and rubbed at his forehead. “He said,” his voice was strained, “he would meet us to the north.”

The group glanced at each other. Hyrule shrugged and turned back to his toast.

“Where north?”

Time shrugged.

“That’s helpful,” Twilight muttered.

Someone snickered.

“I like him,” Hyrule said, turning to Four.

“Who?”

A cloud passed by overhead, blocking out the sun for a moment. Hyrule turned his face up to the sky and smiled as a bird chirped, passing overhead. “The new guy.”

“Yeah?” Stabbing at a sausage, Four paused the decided to shove the whole thing into his mouth. There was a moment as he chewed and the others fell into their own muttered conversations. “Me too.”

oOo

There was a castle to the north, a mountain rang, a forest, a river. Hyrule skipped a stone into a creek as the others argued behind him. A frog croaked at him and he stuck his tongue out at it and watched as it hopped into the water. Four sat to his left, swinging his legs back and forth as a crow cried out in the trees.

“I highly doubt he would have said _north_ if he had meant the castle—” Someone, it sounded like Wind, said behind them.

“Has a point,” Four muttered.

Hyrule grinned at him.

“But if here was a landmark, then he could have said that, too,” Twilight shot back. A squirrel scolded him from a nearby tree.

It didn’t seem to change any of the loudness or behaviour, so the tiny rodent just huffed and scampered back up into the tree.

Another rock went skipping across the water. “ _Also_ has a point,” Hyrule said, squatting down close to the mud. He didn’t find another rock, but there was a snail climbing across the bank and he stopped to watch it go down and up small pebbles and fallen leaves.

Four leaned back and turned his face up to the sky. “How long do you think they’ll argue about it?”

“Years,” Hyrule mused sadly. There was a snort from the young man next to him. “Decades. A millennium.”

“Are you two gonna help us figure this out?” Warriors called.

Offering a lazy smile, Four glanced over to the group. “Nah,” he said. “I think you got it.”

Beside him, Hyrule started giggling. Wind shot him a dark look, but it only made him laugh harder.

In the middle of the group, Sky sighed, smiled, and shrugged. “We might as well keep going forward,” he said. “There’s a possibility that he will just find us and not actually meet us anywhere.”

“Or,” Wild spoke up, “he wants us to wander and is currently at home, enjoying the fact that we are no longer at his house.”

Seven heads turned to stare at him.

Wild shrugged but didn’t look all too ashamed as he admitted an, “That’s what I would do.”

“Noted,” Time drawled and rubbed his hand down his face. “We might as well keep going,” he continued a moment after. “There’s no reason to sit here and argue about it. If he doesn’t find us, he doesn’t find us.”

“If he doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t have to.”

Time gave Four a nod. “Exactly,” he said. “And we won’t go back and force him.”

“Would be funny, though,” Twilight muttered to Warriors who smirked.

Hyrule sighed and stood up with a hop. He offered his hand to Four, who took it. “Onward?” He said.

“Onward,” Four nodded.

There was a murmur of agreement through the group and Hyrule waited until most had passed him, following the creek further north. Before them the towering mountain was like a giant, watching silently as they pushed through the underbrush. Something about it felt familiar with its crumbling face and yawning caverns.

“You alright?” Someone said by his shoulder.

Hyrule jumped a little and glanced over at Wild. “Fine,” he said, and turned his gaze back up to the mountain. “Just... a feeling.”

“Bad one?”

Frowning, Hyrule thought it over. “No,” he managed at last. “I feel like I know this place even though I don’t. Know what I mean?”

“Absolutely not,” Wild told him, voice dry. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What-so-ever.”

A burst of surprised laughter fell from Hyrule’s lips. “I deserved that.”

Wild grinned at him and, together, they turned to look up at the mountain until the trees grew thick and only bits and pieces could be picked out through the boughs. “It could be a memory,” he started to say, then frowned. “It _could_ be.”

“What else could it be?”

“Well,” Wild adjusted his slate. “It could be a feeling. You might not know _this_ place, but you know of somewhere like it.”

Hyrule hummed thoughtfully. “Does that happen to you?”

“Sometimes,” Wild said. “Not all that often, though.” He turned to Hyrule and grinned. “It’s nice not knowing where I am sometimes. Gives it a whole new adventure.”

Tilting his head to the side, Hyrule thought about his home full of its marshes and deserts, of its woodlands and beaches, of the graveyards that stretched on for miles and even an island shaped into a maze by constantly shifting lava flows.

And then he thought about seeing it all for the first time again.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose it would.”

oOo

They reached the base of the mountain and Sky immediately collapsed into the tall grass.

“I’m not climbing that,” he said, raising his voice over the sound of the roiling waterfall east of where they had stopped. It joined in with another river that combined to vanish in the direction they had come from. “I refuse. And you can’t make me.”

“There’s a bird at the top,” Twilight said, looking upwards. His hand was over his eyes, protecting them from the heavy, bright sun. “I can see it. Pretty colours and all.”

“ _I’ll give you the bird—_ ”

Wild stepped over Sky’s legs and tossed an apple to Time, who gave him a nod. Hyrule sat down under one tree and stretched out his legs. He watched as Warriors settled beside him and offered a bit of smoked jerky.

“Thanks,” Warriors muttered, taking a bite and chewing absently as he stared at the steep incline.

Four pulled Wild to the side, and they flipped through the slate, Wind joining them soon after.

“Guess we just wait, huh?” Hyrule picked his meat apart into long strings.

Warriors sighed. “Suppose so,” he said and reached out, resting his elbow on Hyrule’s shoulder. “I say we give it till, what, noon? Then we head off.”

“I wouldn’t mind camping here,” Twilight said. He was eyeing the river flowing past them and the dark shapes under the surface. “Just for a few days.”

“Course not,” Warriors muttered and took another bite of his jerky. He rolled his eyes as Twilight passed them, pulling his fishing rod out of his pack. His voice was teasing as he muttered a fond, “ _Farmhand_.”

Twilight’s voice was just as fond as he grumbled out a, “ _City boy_.”

Hyrule glanced over at a soft sigh and watched as Time sat down in the grass. He had his eyes closed, head tilted up to the sky. There was a small smile on his face.

A breeze ruffled through the grass and laughter bounced between Four, Wind, and Wild as they pulled things out of the slate and passed around apples, berries, and nuts to the adventurers. Hyrule traded a fair bit of his jerky for some honey candy and sucked on it as the branches of the trees above him swayed.

“You know,” Warriors said after a bit, “I wouldn’t mind staying in this time for a bit longer either.”

“Glad you think so,” Link said beside him. “I worked very hard to keep it that way.”

“What the _actual—_ ” Warriors and Hyrule spun around. There was a yelp by the water, followed by the splash of something falling in. Steel hissed as it was pulled partially from a sheath, and Wild cursed as his slate almost tumbled from his fingers when he jumped.

Beside them, wearing his long blue sweater, wide witch hat still on his head, sat Link. He had a pack next to his leg that had bottles and herbs strapped to the sides and looked like it would burst at any moment and quite a few jars filled with various substances in his arms.

“You—” Warriors rubbed at his face. “When did _you_ get here?”

Link blinked. There was a sparkle in his eye. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said and turned to Hyrule. “Here,” he offered one jar in his arms. It was full of some sort of purple jam and had a light blue ribbon tied underneath the lid. “I have one of these for each of you—”

There was a loud gasp, and the jar was snatched from the witch’s hand. Bright eyes blinked and looked up.

Hyrule held the jam to his chest, a wide, gleeful smile on his face as he looked down at Link.

Long, pointed ears immediately tilted down as a dark flush spread across the witch’s cheeks.

“I _love_ it,” Hyrule said. “ _Thank_ you.”

“I—yes? You’re welcome?” Link blinked and looked like he was about to hide beneath his hat again before there were hands pulling at his sleeves.

“Is that _jam_?” Wind was halfway crawling over him. “Did you bring us jam? Can I have one? What flavours are they? Do you have _blueberry_?”

Link squawked and looked as though he was trying to scramble away only to have Sky at his back, pulling at one of the jars curiously.

Hyrule grinned, twisting off the cap and dipping his finger in. He looked up as he plopped a bit in his mouth and saw Time leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and grinning at Link’s misfortune as he was surrounded by the others.

They caught each other’s eye.

 _Yeah_ , Hyrule thought as cursing and laughter surrounded the group. _Yeah, he’ll fit in just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final massive author note dump on the way???? maybe????  
> in any case i went "okay but what about THIS characterization" and threw the rest away.  
> i'm not sorry.


	4. Author's Note

I should start off by saying that this fic was going to be _done_ in October but that sure as hell didn’t happen, did it? Anyway. I love this lad. I love everything about this silly magical system I created for this world.

The idea from witch legend both came from the art that [AnxiousArtist0](https://www.instagram.com/p/CC60W3XgBzT/) drew way back when and DF’s lovely version of the design [here](https://dfanart.tumblr.com/post/631614701076398080/i-wanted-to-make-a-new-header-for-spoopy-month) as well as the fact that i’m currently playing a version of the Hero of Legend that is a mischievous little bard.

I drew a lot of inspiration from the Witch class in Pathfinder, especially the idea of patrons giving a certain type of magic and even went about building a character sheet to see how, exactly, it would work before deciding that Legend was... a bit weird and making not only my own patron/s but also delving a lot into the past of the games.

These pages show what I was _thinking_ about during the process, but as you’ll see with the others (and in future fics) i veered... very much off the path that i had first thought up months ago lmao. It’s just what happens. There was supposed to be a long fight scene at the end but that was replaced due to me not wanting to write a fight but also the fact that I thought it would be a good idea to have it end on a note of peaceful, cottage friendship.

Speaking of cottages. His house. His _house_. Omg I built his house in the sim's for shits and giggles (also for reference cause i didn't want to get lost describing stuff) and ended up having a blast. Does he have too many plants? no, of course not. Does he have any more room for plants? ... no, but that doesn't matter!

The front/side views of the house: 

The inside:

The pathway Wind took into the "hidden area"/Dream World:

The Dream World (daytime):

The Dream World (Nighttime):

Inside The Little Shack: 

The original plan for this fic only started off at... two pages? and then i started _actually_ writing it and realised that... wasn't going to cut it lol. This whole fic grew out of control the moment i really started thinking about magic and the loz lore in not only the downfall timeline but also in legend's games themselves.

Hyrule wasn't going to have a really big role and you would have seen Wind trying to actively convince Legend to try and came. After a while their roles became different and I wanted you to see this group through Hyrule's eyes while leaving Legend's reasonings a bit questionable. Why _did_ he come? Wadnerlust? Or is he just looking for someplace to belong? Hyrule, on the other hand, is a bit of a wildcard and I have never enjoyed writing him more than I have in this fic. A jump first and ask questions later type of hero, the obnoxious morning person, the forager. He and Legend have a lot alike and a lot of differences which is one of the biggest reasons why i wanted to end with him. 

(shoutout to nickel who drew the cute little jam scene! if they ever post it i'll drop a link)

EDIT: here u go, have [nickel's art](https://nickelarts.tumblr.com/post/642446676433518592/httpsarchiveofourownorgworks27288463-so-grim)!

It was fun exploring that world and i honestly can't wait to do it again. if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask!

love,

grim


End file.
